Holmes and Memory Loss

I had a funny thought yesterday. I do know that this is my imagination speaking - but still the thought itself is quite funny. To give a brief prelude (which I have already talked about in the almost never-ending post below): I have been in absolute fits of anger over the terrible state of my memory loss. I seem to be forgetting everything I read, and remember precious little in terms of dates, historical events, political incidents, non-fiction writers, and writings, and these days I even forget the novels that I read. Last year I read the fascinating 'Red Earth and Pouring Rain'. I remember not(a)thing about the book (it almost feels like I read it or lived through the book in a dream). The only thing I do remember is that when I was reading the book, I felt as though I was 'the talking monkey'. I really identified with the monkey. And that's all I remember about the book: that there was a talking monkey, who had been narrating a fantastic, colourful, vibrant, and violent tale of his past life...well, no - now I remember he wasn't a 'talking monkey' - he was actually a 'typing monkey'...

I know for sure that I would fail in a GK quiz. This is because combined with memory loss I also don't read much of what I should. And the reason I don't, is because my weak mind never remembers. It spits out the information within three days. So what's the point? And even if I do know a bit about what's going on around and in the world - I don't remember or really know the history of what preceded the current situation...Now mind you, I'm not proud of this. I have been in despair over this situation...and yet, my mind seems to be extremely sprightly about other matters (which seem not-very-important, not to mention terribly self-centred)...incidents which happened decades ago, people I interacted with, funny memories, and quirky ones of faces, meetings, stories...I even remember one conversation that I had with my mum regarding the "evil wolf" when I was 4 and had finished reading a ladybird version of "Little Red Riding Hood". I remember about my first infatuation at the age of 6, I remember how when we were 7, a childhood friend had upchucked in class, and ‘it’ was a bright yellow - and I had imagined that she had swallowed a great quantity of whole lemons, which had been pureed. I remember friends from school, the fun we used to have, the long conversations, birthday parties, having silent conversations with myself, being Obsessive Compulsive about washing my hands (!) five times in between eating a single meal, when I was 9; I remember the stories that my friends told me about their families, and siblings...so there are things I remember as well...like trying to physically peel off the masks off people's faces as a 7 year old, playing the game of 'rushen' at 'round about the same age - without really knowing what or why I was doing it. But there are things I can't remember. Things that I need to, things that I must, things that I want to...hence my steady rising despair yesterday broke through and made me stomp out of my computer lab and go out for a smoke and coffee.

As my anger and despair and grief about my own handicapped memory assaulted me, I was also suddenly struck by the fact that it was a problem for the whole human race. Human beings have short term memory. We don't remember the horror, brutality, and violence that we have brought upon our world across hundreds of centuries. We either don't remember or we forget. So we cringe at the horror of human sacrifice, and then we send our young, who are often our poorest off to a meaningless war with a cheery, "cheerio". We ban a horrific social practice in one part of the world, and then in the name of 'cultural relativism', (happens a lot in the social sciences) we uphold the same violation when it transpires elsewhere . Or conversely - we say something is all right if "I" do it but wrong if my "neighbour" half-way across the world engages in the same. And then we get into hundreds of dithering debates, acrimonious arguments, and verbal gymnastics - not to mention finger pointing, bloody war, political battles, and academic yabble-babble. But we don't "see" somehow that what's happening today is almost identical in content if not in form to the things that have happened hundreds and thousands of years ago - only now, we have some technological ‘finesse’ added to the menagerie. Killing, sodomizing, fighting, raping, plundering...horrific brutality. And of course the media does like the gristly stuff a lot. And it's not the media per se – we gulp it down, while sadly shaking our heads. There's a perverse fascination for blood, gore, and indignity exposed. And while it’s true that I wouldn’t want such violent stories, and the dreary stories, or the stories of injustice to be hidden away, it’s almost as if instead of becoming more sensitive and wise after reading or hearing about such episodes, we are becoming more used to it. What can I call it but an alarming and quite tragic case of ‘memory loss’? And stories about brilliance, goodness, dots of heaven appear ever so rarely...and I don't know whether those tiny dots are really tiny - or whether indeed they are just as widespread and profound as the ugliness.

Anyhow - the point that hit me was that the human race as a whole seemed to have an extremely short memory - just like me. And both are in an unhappy state, rather. And then as if all this were not enough - I realised that through my endless lifetimes, there's probably nothing I remember - at least not consciously (and I happen to believe in the notion of rebirth. can't go into this tangent now - but it is a belief and a 'knowing' that simply 'is' what it is). So every lifetime I come back - I'm most likely learning the same old lessons all over again. Heck! I can't even remember this lifetime and the stuff learnt - leave alone lessons from other lifetimes. And this thought dropped me into an even deeper pit of utter gloom. It was as if I were a student, forever stuck in Class 5, and forever failing every year!As this thought hit home, I was yelling inside. 'What a waste! What a terrible waste!'And then as I inhaled on my cigarette, I wondered, how incredible it would be if I could just remember - just remember all the things I needed to..so that the next time I come around to our planet - I'll be just a tad more 'wise' and aware.

And that's when the funny thought hit. I could hear Holmes saying out aloud (of course I always see Jeremy Brett in my head) - almost 'gonging' in my head, "Don't you remember what I said about the mind being an attic?" I said, "Of course I do! That's probably one of the seven things I remember from all your stories combined!" And then my mind started grinning inspite of myself. Half-chuckling, I said, "Ha! And you didn't want to remember the planets, or the fact that all the planets are spinning around the sun. Hyuck!Hyuck! You even said it was 'useless' information!" The chuckle disappeared from my head, as I retorted grumpily, "But so what? My own mind is stuffed with things that I don't need to remember. Useless bits and strings, and yards of information, memories, which have no purpose, use or...Gah-bah, anything! And I forget." Holmes smiled in my head. You know that half-smile, eyes almost shut but not quite, and he half-reclined in his chair, and deeply inhaled from his pipe, emitting some purple smoke. I looked back at him glumly, and said, "What?! I don't remember anything! I forget everything I need to remember and know - and remember everything I need to forget. My mind is an overstuffed attic, which remembers nothing. I remember nothing of what I read about the distinction between fusion and fission energy, the nuclear power issue, the ---"
"Fool!" Holmes replied sharply. His seemingly sleepy Self had disappeared, and he was staring at me in the face now - with that inimitable sharp, bright, and brilliant, and still half-amused expression glinting through him and his eyes. "Fool twice over!" So saying he wagged his pipe in front of my glum and glaring face. My eyes this time glinted back at him though. A sharp glint, and a twinkle flashed through. He smiled again, and with a laconic, "Excellent!" -“poofh”, he disappeared.

And this was the funny incident. The nugget Holmes threw in my way was that "maybe, just maybe, after all is said and done I do remember." Albeit, unlike Holmes I don't consciously remember to forget the things that I don't care to or need to remember.

Of course, it's only now that I say 'maybe'. What flooded into me in those seconds is that through my lifetimes I've probably decided that there are certain things that I won't and can't forget. That I won't forget how brutal I've been somewhere, sometime; that I won't forget about the blood, gore, and violence that I've engaged in sometime somewhere; that I won't forget the essence of the human spirit...even if I'm yet to understand it; that I won't forget that no idea, no invention, no discovery is inherently good or evil or bad; that I won't forget that given a choice between remembering bits of 'real' information and the ability to understand connections - I will pray that I have the latter, no matter how rudimentary or how basic my skills are at the second enterprise (Both would have been great...but what can I do); that I won't forget that any 'glorious' ideal can lead to bloodshed when it's seen as 'set in stone'; that I won't forget that real freedom is sacred, and that all life is sacred.... and much more. But the 'more' I'll leave for another day.

And that's what it was....the incident - the funny thing. I know it's my imagination. I know there's a part of me, which says that I'm just 'using' the 'incident' to justify the sickly health of my memory.
Nonetheless...there's a part of me which says," Ah, but I do remember what I need to and forget the things that I can afford to forget, at least for the nonce."